Turning tables
by BelleMarie92
Summary: They say write what you know and homophobia is what I know. Kind of AU as Kurt and Blaine are college students and Blaine is not out yet.
1. Chapter 1

I stare out the lake, watching with disinterest as two young boys splash in the water. They sound and look so happy. I can distantly remember that feeling. I can remember laughing so hard I couldn't breathe, I can remember the rush after a performance, and basking in the applause.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that feeling began to crumble. It was a gradual process, barely noticeable. And when I finally noticed, it was much, much too late.

A tear slides down my cheek, but I don't have the energy to wipe it away. I don't have the energy to move at all. I know I can't stay here forever, but my body doesn't want to move. I'm like a statue, still and unblinking, sitting cross legged on the grass. It's not until I hear his voice that I'm startled into action.

"Blaine."

I jump and tilt my head up to look at the boy standing beside me. He's breathtakingly beautiful, tall and graceful with clear blue-green eyes and adorable elfish features. My breath hitches in my throat and I stand, swallowing. "Kurt," I whisper, my voice dry and cracking from the tears I've cried.

His eyes instantly soften and he opens his arms silently. I throw myself at him, burying my face in his neck. I'm shaking and sobbing all over again, clinging tightly to him.

Kurt rubs my back gently, whispering sweet words of comfort in my ear. I drink in his scent before pulling away and attempting to collect myself. "You came," I say quietly.

Kurt cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at me. "Of course I came, " he answers, confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

I sigh and look away. "I-I don't know," I admit softly.

Kurt watches me closely. "What happened tonight, Blaine?"

I shut my eyes tightly. "Please, can I just go to your house and sleep?" I murmur softly "I don't want to think about it right now."

I can't see him, but I can feel the disapproval radiating from him. However, he doesn't argue. I let him take my hand and lead me to the car.

I never look back.

X-X-X-X-X-X

When we get to Kurt's house, all the lights are on even though it's midnight. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. My call had been rather startling.

Kurt parks smoothly and turns to me with an unreadable expression. I stare back at him, sleepiness washing over me. I really wasn't feeling that well. I suppose walking for ten miles in the rain will do that.

He steps out of the car and I follow suit, grabbing his hand and firmly grasping it. I need the physical contact to keep myself calm.

The door opens before we even reach the steps and Burt is standing there. He gazes at me, his brows furrowed in concern. I instantly lower my head. _This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be bothering these people this late at night._

"Blaine... Are you okay, son?"

I clear my throat, still looking down. "Fine, sir."

"I told you to quit with the sir. Call me Burt."

"I'm sorry, si- Burt," I apologize automatically, scuffing the dirt with my toe.

Burt stares at me for a minute and sighs deeply, backing up to clear the doorway. "Come in and change. You can sleep in Kurt's room tonight, but only tonight. We'll fix the guest bedroom up for you tomorrow."

"Thanks," I murmur quietly as Kurt tugs me toward the stairs. I collapse on his bed, mumbling incoherently into the sheets.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Kurt says as he searches through his closet for clothes I can sleep in.

"I said your bed is soft," I snuggle under the covers. It smells like Kurt and the whole effect of it is making me drowsy.

"Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable yet. You have to change. Get up."

I ignore him, hugging his pillows tightly.

"Blaine Anderson, you are not sleeping in my bed in wet clothes. Get the hell up."

I grumble and kick my way out of the blankets, grabbing the shirt and sweatpants Kurt is holding. I peel my damp shirt off, wincing as the effort pulls on my strained back. Yeah, I was definitely going to feel that in the morning.

"Blaine," Kurt says quietly.

I turn to him, blinking. "What?"

"What happened to your back?"

My blood runs cold. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean there's a huge bruise on your lower back that wasn't there earlier."

"I fell," I shrug, tugging on the sweatpants and climbing into bed. "It was a result of my own clumsiness, nothing more."

Kurt's eyes narrow. "Lucky for you, it's late and I'm tired," he says evenly. "Tomorrow, I will find out why you called me crying hysterically, walked ten miles in the rain, and appeared with a bruise on your back," he flips off the light and crawls into bed without another word.

I shiver, knowing very well he wasn't joking.

X-X-X-X-X-X

"_You're disgusting."_

"_I can't believe you're doing this to us. Look at your poor mother. Don't you care about what this is doing to her?"_

"_I would rather kill myself than live with the fact that my son is gay."_

"_What am I going to tell the church? Oh God, the things they are going to think."_

"_I always thought you were a good kid. My boy... As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a son anymore."_

I jerk up, cold sweating soaking my shirt and the memories of those last words reverberating through my mind. I gasp for breath, feeling sick and rush to the bathroom. I barely manage to make it to the toilet before I'm puking. I puke until there's nothing left and I'm sitting there, sobbing and dry-heaving. My head throbs painfully and my back screams for mercy. I don't want to move, I don't want to think, I don't want to remember.

"Blaine?"

I freeze at his sleepy voice. "Go back to bed, Kurt," I murmur quietly, keeping my head down.

He ignores me and kneels down, rubbing my shoulders soothingly. "What's wrong, baby?"

I snort and another small sob escapes. "Everything," I whisper.

Kurt kisses the side of my neck and I lean into him, closing my eyes. "Tell me about it," he pleads softly, wrapping his arms around me. "Please."

I stiffen, trying to pull away, but he's not letting me budge. "I don't want to talk about it," I say simply. It's the truth. I'm trying so hard to black it out, trying to forget.

Kurt hugs me tightly. "Blaine, you're scaring me," he says his voice pained. "Please... I have to know what's going on."

I swallow and start to shake as the words and images fly through my mind once more. The dry-heaving begins again and my back groans in protest. Oh God, I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

"Kurt," I gasp out, my breath coming in fast, frantic bursts. He shushes me, drawing me close and stroking my hair. I sob, clinging to him and fighting the words running rampant through my head.

Kurt has tears running silently down his cheeks. "Shhh, baby," he chants, tangling his fingers in my hair. "It's okay, you're okay. They're not here, they can't hurt you anymore. I promise."

I shake my head violently and gulp in mouthfuls of air, burying my face in his neck. "Please don't make me talk about it," I beg desperately. "I can't... I can't do it right now. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it's a lot to call you and not tell you any-"

"Hush," Kurt interrupts, pushing me away so we're staring at each other with eyes bright with tears. "You don't have to apologize," he says firmly. He stands, holding out his hand. I take it and let him pull me up.

Kurt looks at me sadly and I cringe. _That's twice tonight I've made someone look like that. _If he notices the expression on my face, he chooses to ignore it and squeezes my hand as he leads me back to his room.

Ten minutes later, Kurt is snoring softly and I'm staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

Unwilling to face the monsters that haunt my dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight streams through the blinds. I sit up and rub my eyes. I can't remember how much sleep I got, but I know it wasn't much.

I stand and shuffle to the bathroom, staring at my reflection. Oh God, I look terrible. My hair is a wild curly mess and there are dark smudges under my eyes. I sigh and splash my face with freezing water. I can't bring myself to do anything about it.

I head downstairs, cautiously peeking into the kitchen. I blanch when it's just Carole and try to back out, but she sees me. "Blaine! I'm making pancakes which isn't too exciting, but you're welcome to join me if you want."

I don't want to be rude so I inch closer, clasping my hands together in front of me. "Where's Kurt?"

Carole sends me a quick smile before returning to the pancakes. "He went to the store with Burt. Finn is still asleep. You can't get him up before ten for nothing," she shakes her head fondly.

I manage a tiny smile. I like Carole, always have. I think she's an amazing mother unlike my own, but I don't allow myself to think of that.

Silence descends and I feel awkward. I feel as if I should say something to her. Some sort of heartfelt statement that will show her just how much I appreciate her and Burt for taking me in without hesitation.

"Thank you," I blurt out suddenly. _Wow, that was so heartfelt, Blaine. _My cheeks flame and I stare down at the floor, embarrassed.

Carole stops stirring the batter and turns around to look at me curiously. "For what?" She asks gently.

I swallow. "For letting me stay here. I know it was a lot to ask and I haven't even explained what happened... I'm so sorry for intruding on your hospitality like this."

Carole puts her hand over my mouth, cutting me off. "First off, it was not a lot to ask," she says firmly. "Burt and I like you, Blaine, and anytime you call crying like you did last night, we are not going to hesitate to bring you into our house. This isn't an intrusion, sweetie," she runs her fingers through my hair. "You are not bothering us, not in the least."

I stare at her and feel tears start to well up in my eyes again. All I ever do anymore is cry. I allow her to wrap her arms around me and hug her back. She's so warm and smells like chocolate, a scent I'm unfamiliar with. It's comforting. I inhale it and commit to memory.

The front door swings open loudly and we break apart, startled. Burt and Kurt storm in, anger darkening their eyes.

I'm confused and look at Kurt questioningly, but he's looking at Burt as if asking what to do.

Burt clears his throat and his gaze shifts to me. "Blaine, your father is here and wants to talk to you."

My eyes widen and I back away. Carole catches me just before I trip and rubs my shoulders. "I don't... I don't want to see him," I whisper, my heart pounding.

"I told you, dad," Kurt's jaw works furiously and I've never seen him look so cold.

"I'll tell him," Burt spins around and walks briskly out the door.

Kurt's at my side instantly, the coldness vanishing in a flash. His fingers brush my cheekbones gently. "You've been crying," he observes softly, his brows creasing in concern.

I laugh nervously, rubbing my eyes. "A little bit," I admit, giving Carole a shy smile as she slips out with a quick wink at me. "They weren't sad tears though."

Kurt starts to say something, but he's interrupted by a shout and a loud bang.

My heart stops when my father, Jack Anderson, barges into the room. He looks angry and frustrated just like he did last night. His eyes land on me and I flinch at the sheer hatred in them. "I want to talk to you," he says in a tightly controlled voice.

Burt bursts into the room a minute later. "I told you, he doesn't want to talk to you," he snaps furiously, rubbing absently at his arm.

"This is my goddamn son," Jack whirls and points a finger at Burt. "You do not have the privilege to deny me the right to talk to him."

"This is my goddamn house," Burt returns evenly. "I do have the privilege to call the cops and throw you out if I want to."

My father's eyes flash with anger and for a minute, it looks as if he's going to attack him. I drop Kurt's hand and intervene quickly. "Stop it," I manage to get out. "I'll talk to you. Just leave them out of it," I look at him briefly before slipping outside to wait for him.

X-X-X-X-X-X

I'm leaning against the wall, trying to slow my racing heart when he joins me. I don't look at him. I just want to get it over with.

My father crosses his arms across his chest. "Your mother wants you to come home."

"I'm not coming home."

"You really don't have much say in the matter."

"I'm a nineteen year old college student. You really can't stop me," I say with bravery I don't feel.

He exhales in frustration, glaring at me. "Why are you making this so difficult, Blaine? Just come home and we can forgive and forget."

"Forget what? Forget that I'm gay? I still am, you know. That hasn't changed."

My father growls, actually _growls _at me. "I talked to our pastor," he says tightly. "He's willing to talk to you one on one. We're going to help you through this, Blaine."

I draw back, anger setting in. "I don't want to talk to him," I snap, clenching my fists. "There's nothing wrong with me and I do not need or want help."

"This is disgusting, Blaine," Jack spits out. "_You_ are disgusting," his eyes darken and fear shoots through me. I recognize that look.

I back away toward the door. "I am not disgusting," I say in a quivering voice. "Please go."

"Oh but you are," Jack walks toward me, pushing me against the wall. I cry out in pain as my back makes contact with it. "Please just let me go," I plead, struggling to get out of his grasp.

"Why?" He whispers, tightening his hands on my shoulders. "So you can go in there and fuck that fag of yours? Is that what you want? To fuck him until he can't walk? I bet you two go at it like rabbits."

Tears spring to my eyes. "You're hurting me," I gasp, twisting to try to get out of his grip. "Let me go," I do the only thing I can think of. I kick wildly in his direction and make contact with his knee, scrambling frantically for the door as he howls in pain.

I'm not quick enough. He grabs me and shoves me to the ground. I cough and nearly choke as he shoves my face into the pavement and close my eyes tightly, pleading silently for someone to notice. Anyone...

Suddenly, the hands disappear, replaced by gentle ones. My chest heaves up and down forcefully and the hands rub my back gently. "Blaine, honey, look at me. Are you hurt? Do we need to take you to the hospital?"

I take a deep breath and sit up, locking eyes with Kurt who looks worried. "No," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I'm not hurt."

Burt returns, cursing under his breath. "He got away, the son of a bitch is fast," he focuses on me. "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you too badly did he?"

I shake my head. "I'm fine," I answer woodenly, standing and walking into the house. I ignore Kurt's calls and lock myself in the bathroom, sliding down against the door.

Don't think, don't remember.

Don't think, don't remember.

Don't. Think.

Don't. Remember.


End file.
